The Queen of Flames (Sequel to 'The Demon of Winterfell') (On Hold)

Chapter Two: A Lover and Fears

Emmelyne wasn't sure if she was in love.

Yes, she lie in her bed, her head rested on Markus Waynwood's chest, her breathing fast but steady and her heart racing with prior exhilaration.

But she did not know if it was love.

Markus was quiet as they lay there. He ran his fingers through Emmelyne's hair occasionally, or sometimes uttered sweet words to her quietly.

She knew that Markus was in love.

He'd told her that he was in love.

But Emmelyne did not know what her feelings were.

R'hllor lie at the foot of the bed. He whined quietly whenever one of them moved. The direwolf at least liked Markus, and that was a good thing, as he frequently made visits to Emmelyne's chambers.

Emmelyne and Jon... whatever they had had, that had stopped. Perhaps Markus was a replacement in the girl's mind. She did not know. The only thing she knew, was that he way a replacement, then he was an excellent one.

Winterfell had changed from when Emmelyne was sixteen. No longer was she referred to as a whore and a witch by servants. Instead they gave her a title. 'The Queen of Flames.' She accepted it willingly, though she knew that Demon would never truly disappear. Lots of things had been replaced in the time after the Battle of the Bastards.

She was quite sure she was pregnant, something that both frightened and delighted her beyond belief. She couldn't bring herself to find a maester. Didn't want it to be real. At least she knew that if her suspicions were true, the child was certainly Markus's. But if she did not love the father...

Jon held meetings often. He spoke of the White Walkers. Of the Night King. Emmelyne didn't understand any of what he meant, and try as she might to see, to have a vision, it was like she'd lost her power.

Today, there was going to be another meeting. Emmelyne chose one of her favorite dresses for the day. It was long and thick, dark crimson in color. It was a velvet material that made sure she was warm throughout the day. She finished her outfit off with the cloak Sansa had made. Emmelyne had never been good at needlework, but she'd adorned the broken wheel of House Waynwood onto the cloak.

The topic of this meeting was dragonglass, which could be used to kill white walkers. "I want every Northern maester to scour their records for any mention of dragonglass," Jon stated. "Dragonglass kills white walkers. It's more valuable to us now than gold. We need to find it, we need to mine it, we need to make weapons from it. Everyone aged ten to sixty will drill daily with spikes, pikes, bow and arrow."

"It's about time we taught these boys of summer how to fight," Lord Glover commented with a chuckle.

"Not just the boys," Jon replied. "We can't defend the North if only half the population is fighting."

Glover stood, staring Jon down. "You expect me to put a spear in my granddaughter's hand?" he demanded.

Lyanna Mormont stood suddenly, locking eyes with Lord Glover despite their height difference. "I don't plan on knitting by the fire while men fight for me," she snapped. "I might be small, Lord Glover, and I might be a girl, but I am every bit as much a Northerner as you."

"Indeed you are, my lady. No one has questioned- -" Glover began.

"And I don't need your permission to defend the North."

Davos and Emmelyne both smiled from Jon's side, and Brienne, from her seat in the crowd, did the same. Sansa held back her own smile. Lyanna looked to Jon. "We'll begin training every man, woman, boy, and girl on Bear Island," she said.